


Staycation Daze

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Bill plan a little unscheduled time instead of going to a destination vacation this year.  Of course, everything wants to interfere in their private time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staycation Daze

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this at one a.m. after the most amazing pastrami and pepperjack sandwich EVER. It was epic. I can't vouch for the quality of this fic given the various circumstances and the late-hour infusion of vanilla coke zero, but I hope everyone enjoys. <3 I fail at fluff so it's smuff, OKAY. Thanks go to Gin for making me a sandwich at past midnight, and ma_chelle for the speedy beta and continuity checks and squishes. ♥

Bill woke with a determined doggy tongue lapping at his toes and the scent of coffee wafting into his nose; stretched, sighed happily, and opened his eyes. "This is not the Maldives," he stated with certainty, meeting the gaze of a pair of warm brown eyes identical to his own.

"No," Tom confirmed, pulling his brows together in a puppyish pout, "but you wouldn't get bedside service, there, or have those lovely darlings to wake you." He pointed toward Bill's feet.

"Which is why I agreed to this," Bill said with another sigh, reaching up and spanning the length of the bed. He pressed his palms to the headboard and his feet to the footboard in a full-body stretch, dislodging the dackels for a moment. "You know how much I was looking forward to the hotel spa, and that totally, totally blue water, and a beach where no one gives a shit if we're the Kaulitz twins..."

"Thank you, Bill, for making this incredible sacrifice to stay home with me and our doggie-kids," Tom said drolly, passing over a steaming mug.

Bill sat up and gathered the scattered sheet over his knees, accepting the offering as his royal due. He sipped at the milky sweet beverage and closed his eyes, lounging back against the headboard. Only Tom knew how to make his coffee precisely the way he liked it. Many PAs had tried and disappointed him. "Well, I heard the budget was a little tight," he replied. After testing the heated liquid, he began to drink it down greedily. The first morning cup of coffee never lasted long.

"Not to mention we'd have to leave the babies," Tom said, giving him those eyes again. "Wouldn't you rather be home for once when we've got this little stretch of unoccupied time, instead of living out of our suitcases for a change?"

Bill made a long arm and snatched Tom off-balance, sending him sprawling into the loose sheet beside him. "Yes, yes," he said with a laugh. He swallowed down more coffee and looked down at Tom, who wriggled around on the bed until he'd pillowed his head on Bill's thigh. "These are all of the reasons you trotted out so convincingly when you proposed this stay-home vacation to begin with."

"Not to mention, having me twenty-four seven," Tom added, licking his bottom lip.

Bill grinned down at his twin. "I already have you twenty-four seven," he replied. "I'm just enjoying all of this free time, I can't remember the last time we had a break like this."

Tom smiled back. "Anyone looking at you now would know you're so full of bullshit, always talking about how you never have a moment of down time, always up and working."

Bill scoffed. "I am full of bullshit; we lie for a living, Tom. No one needs to know our truth." His eyes darkened as he leaned over Tom. "Besides, anyone who saw me now would realize without a doubt I'm fucking my twin brother, and we certainly can't afford for that to happen..."

Tom's eyes dilated and his breath hitched. "Right now?" he asked, catching Bill's mood. His hand slid up Bill's thigh, drawing down sheet and questing for smooth skin.

"I have to brush my teeth," Bill decided, "then you can have me."

Tom made a disappointed noise and one of the dogs whined in response. The wavy-haired dackel began to nibble at Bill's toes, making him wince.

"And I think someone needs to go out," Bill added, pulling his foot out of Sadie's reach and wiping it on the sheet. At some point during a frenzied bout of lovemaking, most of the covers had come entirely untucked from the frame the night before. They had each other twenty-four seven, as Bill had pointed out, but they were pretty much sexually insatiable when they could be guaranteed the privacy they both needed to be comfortable with intimacy.

Tom pushed his lip out and Bill bent, trapping that pout between his teeth.

"You promised," Bill reminded him.

Tom heaved a sigh and sat up, patting his thigh. The other dackel barked, and began to waddle for the edge of the bed and the set of carpeted stairs that Bill had bought online for their stubby-legged pups. The bed was high, the dogs were short, but Tom had found the solution. "I didn't realize I was promising myself into slavery."

"I've oppressed you since the womb," Bill said serenely. He cackled when Tom gave him a horrified look, and rolled across the opposite side as Tom reached for him. "Go, the sooner you walk the kids, the sooner..."

"I can have you?" Tom filled in the blank, hopeful.

"Mm," Bill hummed noncommittally, not promising anything. There was a soy-dog scramble in the fridge with his name on it.

Donning his boxers and a plush black robe against the chill, Bill spent a few frustrated moments hunting up his slippers. The other dackel, Gollum, had a destructive habit of latching onto Bill's footwear and loving it to pieces. Bill had tried in vain many times to divert Gollum to Tom's sweaty sneakers, but the dachsund wasn't having it. Only Bill's would do, and so he had to keep his shoes confined to the walk-in or risk their destruction or loss.

Today his slippers were under the bed, neither coated with drool nor in tatters, and he set off on the domestic routine they'd established over the past few blissfully unscheduled days. By the time he emerged from the bathroom Bill's twin and dogs were nowhere to be found, so he puttered around the kitchen fixing up his second cup of coffee, making toast, and reheating some of the breakfast scramble that Tom had made for him the day before. They liked their junk food, it was true, but secretly Tom was less awful at cooking than he wanted anyone but Bill to believe.

He lounged at their rarely-used dining table, munching his toast and drinking down coffee, flipping through a few recently-arrived magazines in which they'd been featured. His typical routine would have been to read emails, the infrequent unscheduled mornings being one of the few times he had to catch up on his limited internet usage, but he and Tom had agreed to confine work to a limited window in the afternoons.

Halfway through Bill's second piece of toast and several spoonfuls of scramble, the front door burst open and the exuberant skitter of paws over hard wood let Bill know his family was home.

"You took all of them; how industrious," Bill congratulated as Tom walked through the kitchen to hang up jangling leashes beside the back door.

"Didn't want to go back for a second trip," Tom replied.

"Ah, less industrious than lazy."

"I prefer to think of it as good planning," Tom said. He stopped behind Bill and leaned in, kissed along his neck. "You smell good."

"I still smell like last night," Bill said with a self-conscious laugh, reaching up to stroke Tom's face anyhow.

"Why do you think I said it?" Tom mumbled, kissing below his ear before closing his lips over the lobe. He reached to fan his fingers over the nape of Bill's neck, palming the bones of his spine and ruffling hair aside.

"No...Tom, no," Bill protested, pushing Tom's face away.

"What? Why?" Tom shot back, wounded.

"I'm eating," Bill said, tucking a leg demurely beneath him. "I still haven't brushed my teeth and I need to shower and freshen up and..."

"But, you said I could have you," Tom said piteously, kissing his neck again anyhow.

"Mm...ah," Bill sighed, as Tom hit one of his spots and nibbled at it, blowing a gust of cool air over sensitive skin then tracing the very tip of his tongue in a riveting pattern. "No, I..."

"Don't say no," Tom said, low and persuasive, snaking a hand around him and stroking down Bill's neck and chest. He reached for the little silver ring through the left nipple and tugged on it, stretching the piercing as far as it would go and rubbing a firm circle around the nub of flesh as it tightened.

"Ohh," Bill moaned, shifting in his seat, but he pushed Tom's face away again as he moved in for another kiss. "No, I...I have to shave."

Tom snorted.

"And I have soy scramble breath," Bill added, wrinkling his nose. "The sooner you let me go clean up, the sooner you can have me."

"Fine," Tom said, casting his hands up in surrender.

Bill grumbled a little over the loss of the attentive hand to his nipple, but he got over it with the next mouthful of breakfast.

"I hope you saved some of that for me," Tom said, moving for the fridge.

"Oh," Bill said, lifting a hand to his mouth. "Was I supposed to?"

The process of grooming was thorough and detail-oriented and not to be rushed; at least, not when it came to the care and pampering of one Bill Kaulitz. He exfoliated, he buffed his skin to a high glow, he moisturized, he depilated just about every surface of his body with the exception of his arms and legs, which already produced little enough hair that few people would notice.

Bill went through an array of creams and gels and lather and toner in a precise sequence to make sure he didn't miss anything, and he had another particular routine that he went through whenever possible that he didn't want Tom to know about. It would take away the mystery and maybe a little bit of the glamour. He was pretty sure that Tom liked the impression he could have Bill whenever he liked, but Bill preferred the 'having' to be clean and fun and problem-free. Hence the routine, and sometimes when Tom thought he was being put off, Bill was actually taking care of himself for both their sakes.

Bathroom time was sacrosanct; something that not even the dogs invaded. Bill fluffed out his hair and worked a handful of product through the ends - the stuff he used on the rare occasions he let his hair air-dry. The last part of his routine was the application of makeup. Being home, he used a spare hand, outlining his eyes and darkening his brows and using the barest shimmer of shadow and gloss.

When he opened the door a cloud of peach and vanilla scented steam escaped and Bill grinned at the pile-up clustered outside his door. Tom was down on one knee ostensibly petting Scotty and Nova, sandwiched between them as all the dogs looked up with hopeful eyes. Sadie's tail swished over the rug as she quivered in place, and Gollum ticked his nails over the hardwood floor as he pattered toward Bill, going for the ankles and the Vitamin E in the lotion he licked off Bill whenever he got the chance.

"Here's all my boys and my girl, my princess," Bill crooned, getting down on the carpet runner and maneuvering Gollum away from his feet. "Ugh, I knew I should have put socks on."

Tom put his head beside Nova's. "We missed you," he said, without the faintest hint of mockery. He gave Bill the sweet smile that no one else saw, not even their mom; this was all for him.

"I can tell," Bill said with a chuckle, ruffling Sadie's ears as she fought Gollum for prime space beside him. "Did you eat?" He lost track of time when he was shut up in his bathroom, and when it was an unscheduled day, he didn't bring his watch or phone or any other chronological reminders.

"We all did," Tom confirmed, hugging Scotty's neck and patting Nova. He looked up, one brow arching in the particular way that let Bill know exactly what was going through his twin's mind. Not that it was far from Bill's, right now.

"Are they all played out?" Bill wanted to know, crossing an arm over his front and rubbing Gollum's belly when the little guy dove to the carpet, rolling over at once in mute invitation.

"Bill," Tom whined, and Scotty softly echoed the noise, looking back and forth between them.

"What?" Bill exclaimed, his brows climbing. "I'm only thinking of you, Tom! I'm not the one who's going to have to get up, swinging in the cold, if a wet doggie nose pokes me in the side when we're in the middle of doing it! No, that's your job--"

"Because I'm your slave this week," Tom grumbled, patting over Nova's side.

"You volunteered," Bill returned. "Because _someone_ said we didn't have enough money to go to the Maldives this year..."

"...I said we'd be cutting it close," Tom interrupted, "and only because we poured so much into production costs this past year..."

"Whatever, it means no vacation--"

"-- _This_ is a vacation, and the dogs only interrupted once..."

Bill narrowed his eyes.

"Twice," Tom amended, "but who knew Nova could open doors? Dogs don't have opposable thumbs."

"Thank God, or they'd be in the food all the time," Bill said, and gave Gollum a final tummy rub.

Tom sighed. "I guess we could go play fetch in the backyard," he began, and four sets of ears perked up. Tom gave another, more exaggerated, highly drawn-out sigh. "I'm doing this for you."

Bill tucked his knees against his chest. "You're doing this for yourself!" he claimed. "The sooner the dogs are tired out and snoozing, the sooner you can have me."

Tom gave him suspicious eyes, but picked himself up off the runner, straightening his over-large jeans and chivying dogs as he went. "Come on, Sadie...come on, girl!"

Sadie was the treasured princess in a household of smelly boys, and she knew it. She stayed by Bill's side, leaning against his leg for ear scritches, and at last Tom had to come back for her and scoop her up into his arms.

"Spoiled little..." Tom began to mumble under his breath as he shuffled off.

"Don't say it!" Bill said, warning.

"...so and so," Tom finished, and lifted his coat off a chair in passing. "Come on, boys!" They crowded around his legs, prancing with excitement.

Bill settled himself on the couch and flipped on the television, enjoying the relative quiet and the ability to loll about on the expanse of furniture as he liked, for about five minutes. He got bored and lonely in short order, cycled through a few channels, and his mind drifted off to what he and Tom would do once the exhausted dogs were settled down on their pads. His hand ended up down his pants and the television remote disappeared for parts unknown.

After nearly a program's worth of waiting, Bill craned his head and glared at the back door to their flat. He was in a state of sexual readiness bordering on severe frustration, and where was Tom? He'd attribute it to the sting of payback if he wasn't sure Tom was equally eager to get into his pants as Bill was to shed them, by now.

As Bill was considering the enormous sacrifice of getting up to traverse all the way from couch to backyard while he was in a state of smoldering receptiveness, the door cracked open at last. Slowly, ever so slowly, a line of drooping-headed dogs trooped through the door, panting, tongues unfurled.

"There," Tom declared, shutting the back door with an air of triumph. "They're not going anywhere for at least an hour."

Bill blinked over at his poor babies. "Shit, Tom, you didn't have to run them into the ground."

Tom paused in the act of chugging a bottle of water. "What? They liked it," he claimed. "They're the ones who kept running back for more."

Bill laughed, stretched his arms over his head, and looked upside-down over the couch at his twin. "Get over here," he told Tom. "I want to make out."

"I'm all sweaty," Tom warned him.

"I don't care," Bill claimed, wrinkling his nose. "Get over here and climb on me."

Tom made a low, interested noise and headed for him in a straight line, scaling right over the back of the couch to get to him. Bill began to laugh, delighted that Tom would be so hot for it that he was even vaulting furniture, and reached up for him, parting his legs as Tom settled his weight onto him, pressing him firmly to the cushions and aligning their bellies, matching them up from chest to groin.

He was sweaty, as advertised; and hot, his skin fever-warm against Bill's, but Bill liked it. There was something about the smell of his twin, especially right after exercise, freshly Tom and less cologne, that went straight to Bill's dick. Tom's eyes were dark and his upper lip was faintly sheened with sweat as he lowered his face to Bill's.

The phone on the coffee table began to blare and bounce its way across the lacquered black surface.

"Don't," Tom said desperately, slipping a hand up Bill's shirt.

"I..." Bill bit his lip, reaching for the phone and checking the caller ID. As Tom dipped his head to press a kiss to Bill's naked collarbone, Bill held up the phone like a shield between them. "It's Mom!"

Tom deflated, retracting his limbs from Bill completely and heaving himself up and over to the cushion on the other side of the couch. He folded his arms and stared straight forward at the television.

"The sooner I answer this, the sooner you can--"

"I call bullshit," Tom interrupted, glowering at the television.

Cringing, Bill opened the phone. "Hey, Mom," Bill said, infusing his voice with a half-assed sort of cheer.

"Hey, Mom? _Hey, Mom?_ " Simone echoed. "This is your fourth day staying at home and you sound like someone killed one of your puppies."

"Yeah, well..." Bill made a limp-wristed gesture and across the couch, Tom snickered. Bill brought his hand up and gave him the finger.

"With anyone else, I'd say they were needing to vacation a bit harder, but I bet you can't wait to get back to work, don't know what to do with yourself, yeah?" Simone said shrewdly.

"Well," Bill hedged. It was a convenient excuse for why he sounded less than thrilled right now, so he wasn't going to deny it. He didn't want to hurt his mom by letting her know she had, in fact, interrupted him in the middle of something he was anxious to get back to. He kicked out a bare foot and Tom caught it one-handed, beginning to play with Bill's toes. "The concept of relaxing when we're not away someplace where there's nothing to do BUT relax is totally, totally weird, yeah."

Simone laughed. "You and Tom always have to be in motion, or you're passed out."

Bill snorted and covered his mouth. He waved Tom off when his twin's head lifted curiously. "Yeah, we like to stay busy, you know us."

Tom ran a finger suddenly up Bill's arch, making him curl his toes and try to draw his foot back. Tom held onto the appendage, giving him a challenging look.

"You're probably wondering why I called," Simone said.

"Uhh," Bill stalled, trying to remember if it was Mother's day and he was delinquent again. No, too early. Tom's finger traveled up his ankle tendon and under his pantleg and he squeaked, trying to glare.

"Was wondering if we'll be seeing you this week while you have time off," Simone continued.

"Oh, uhh..." Bill trailed off, pushing his foot into Tom's thigh and making a face. "Well, I dunno; we'll see you next week when we drop off the dogs?" The dubious tone got Tom's attention and the lift of the dark cornrowed head let Bill know his alarm was shared. They loved their parents, but there was a reason they'd essentially moved out at fifteen, and Simone was too damned perceptive for their own good.

"Bill!" Simone protested. "That is not a proper visit, and you know it!"

Tom loomed over him, giving Bill a fright - they made a point of never messing around where someone could catch them, even over the phone. He caught onto the thought the next instant as fingers skimmed up the ticklish planes of his stomach and ribs. Bill yelped and flailed.

"What's going on over there? Gollum get one of your shoes again?" Simone asked.

"Ahh, I have to go...I have to...Mom, Tom's about to start a tickle-fight!" Bill exclaimed, his voice spiraling up into strained higher registers.

"Cheat to win," Simone advised, and hung up on him with a laugh.

"I'll do my best, Mom, bye!" Bill cried, thumbing his phone off and dropping it to the side. He lay back against the cushion, flushed and brilliantly anticipating.

Tom picked his phone back up, cut the power, and set it down. It slid over the edge of the cushion, clattering to the floor. They both ignored it. "Now," he began, setting one hand to Bill's shoulder, the other stroking at the join of neck and shoulder.

"Tickle fight?" Bill proposed, all innocent.

Tom's laugh in reply was low and decidedly naughty and caressed places inside of Bill that had been aching for almost an hour. "The only thing I'm going to be tickling is up in there," he said, parting Bill's legs with a knee and nudging up behind his balls.

"Oh," Bill said, shivering. "Oh, that's dirty, Tomi, I don't know..."

"We'll start out slow," Tom assured him, laying his weight full-press along Bill and attaching their lips together.

The contact shock that arced from Bill's mouth straight down his body was electric, almost painful, but he moaned and wrapped his legs around Tom, pushing up against him and sucking Tom's tongue right into his mouth. They both groaned into the kiss and it gained speed fast, Tom nibbling at his lips in between wet swipes of tongue, Bill pawing Tom's shirt up as soft eager noises left him unbidden.

Tom's mouth was heated and wet and tasted like everything he wanted. Bill widened his lips, licking in past Tom's teeth, beyond the tongue that was teasing him, pressing up against the roof of Tom's mouth with rising urgency. He used the leverage of the legs wrapped around Tom's waist to lift himself up against Tom's stomach.

"Unh," Tom grunted, and pressed his cock against Bill's butt in excited beats.

"Mmf," Bill moaned. He bit down on Tom's lip and pulled away until the lip tugged free of his teeth. Sometimes he loved foreplay; he could make out with Tom for hours on the couch and wrap their bodies together and submerge himself in the heavy daze of their togetherness. He loved it when their teeth clashed and their lips locked and their tongues stroked and curled together.

Right now, he was more riled than relaxed, and the whole morning had been extended foreplay of sorts. He bumped his cock against Tom's stomach and whispered against Tom's mouth as lips descended on his again, "Fuck me, god, Tom; I need you to fuck me right now."

Tom breathed hard against his lips and made a sort of whimpering groan that only Bill and the occasional dog ever got to hear. He pressed himself to Bill's ass again through their clothes and rubbed himself directly against him.

"Oh, ohh," Bill moaned, arching up against him. "Tom, _now_ ; the sooner you get me to our bed--"

"—the sooner I can fuck you," Tom finished, nodding heavily against Bill's chin. He started to climb off the couch and groaned when Bill reached up, groping the ridge of his cock through the baggy fabric of his sweatpants. "Biiiiiill."

Bill humped upward, clinging with his arms and legs, and squeaked when Tom gave him a taste of his own medicine, grabbing his cock through his thin track pants and squeezing. "Ugh, Tom, let's go."

Tom climbed off the couch, making Bill grunt and clutch at him with every bit of strength he had, but Tom was shifting his grip in the next instant, his strong arms circling Bill's body and holding him close. "I'll take you there, I'll take good care of you," Tom murmured in his ear, then flicked his tongue against the lobe.

"Yes, yes," Bill said, insistent, clenching his thighs around Tom.

"F-Fuck," Tom stuttered, arms tightening around him. "You're gonna kill me, aren't you?"

"I'm going to squeeze down on your dick so hard you'll choke," Bill promised, bumping his hard cock against Tom's stomach.

Tom groaned and almost dropped him. He shifted his grip on Bill, making him give a little shriek as he was manhandled from one position up into Tom's arms, one behind his back and the other under his knees. Bill grabbed at his neck and clung like a millstone as Tom picked up the pace, jolting them both through the flat and almost skidding on a carpet runner. In passing, Bill chinned Tom's shoulder and saw Nova draped exhaustedly over Scotty in a corner. Mission accomplished on that score, Bill thought, before Tom carried him over the threshold bridal-style. Bill snagged the door shut with a kicked-out foot and they were headed for the bed.

"Want you," Tom spoke into Bill's mouth.

Bill rubbed his lips against Tom's. "So, take what you want," he invited.

With a very masculine grin, the kind that let Bill know his twin was very sure of himself and what he was about to get, Tom put a knee to the edge of the bed. He disengaged Bill's clinging limbs, spilling him onto sheets that were still redolent of the night before. They were both rather lazy about doing laundry until the come-stains got to be a bit much.

"Strip," Tom ordered, suiting his own actions to words and tugging his shirt off, tossing it behind him. He shucked his pants off and kicked them aside, playing one hand over the waistband of his boxers and licking at his lips as his eyes ran hotly over Bill.

Nodding frantically, Bill shed his tank top and lifted up his hips, running the track pants down and baring his hard cock.

Tom's eyes flared. He climbed onto Bill without waiting for him to disrobe completely, jacking at his cock and kissing his mouth hard. Tom pulled the pants off himself, throwing them beyond the foot of the bed.

"In me," Bill gasped, reaching for Tom's swelling cock. He grabbed it, thumbing the tip. It was long and thick and perfect, and he wanted it without any more delay. "Tomi, now. Now."

"I know, I know," Tom spoke the words into Bill's mouth. He pushed against his chest, sending him sprawling back against the pillows.

Bill bared his teeth but settled himself onto his back, lifting his knees up and his ankles skyward, reaching down with one hand to open himself and put himself on display in a way that, he knew from experience, drove Tom mindless with lust.

Tom stared at him from the foot of the bed, open-mouthed and speechless. He was on Bill in the next instant, settling himself over Bill and between his legs, rubbing the leaking head of his cock directly against Bill's hole.

"Lube," Bill gasped, reaching out for the nightstand. "Damn it, Tom, lube – don't just..."

Dumbly Tom nodded, snatching the tube Bill handed to him. He gave his cock a generous coating and began to spread the rest inside Bill with two greedy fingers.

"You don't need to do that," Bill informed him, low and persuasive. He hitched up, trying to spread himself against Tom, skin against skin. Low needy gasps worked free of his throat and he scratched at Tom's back.

Tom hovered over him, reaching down with a hand to set his tip against Bill's entrance. As he moved over Bill to brace himself he pushed and Bill relaxed, willing himself open. Their bodies slid together and Bill took Tom to the hilt in a long brilliant slide until hips jolted against his ass.

"Uh, uhh," Bill groaned, his head thrashing back against the pillow. Tom had brought him to the place without words and all he could do was urge him on with the thrust of his body and the rake of his nails over Tom's shoulders.

With a rumbling deep groan, Tom withdrew and brought their bodies together. He repeated that move again and again, working his cock in and out of Bill's tightness as Bill clenched down around him, doing his best to keep Tom inside. Tom groaned again and pumped his hips, forcing his cock in and out, making Bill tip his head to the side as increasingly incoherent noises of encouragement spilled from his lips.

"Tom...Tom!" Bill managed, as Tom filled him with his cock again and again, smacking their bodies together with deliciously lewd sounds. His knees were jacked up against his own chest and Tom pressed into and above him, grinding him into the sheets as he fucked him. Braids spilled over Tom's shoulders and swung across Bill's face.

Bill tightened around Tom with deliberation, digging his heels into Tom's sweaty sides. "Harder," he urged.

Tom's mouth was open, his eyes hazy as he moved over Bill. He only nodded, his face screwing up into a pained orgasmic expression as he gave it to Bill faster, his strokes rougher, harder.

Bill shuddered beneath him, clinging to Tom's shoulders, one hand spanning a shoulder blade as he urged Tom to really _fuck_ him, to pound it to him good. Their bodies smacked together harder, the sounds of damp flesh meeting louder than Bill's keening or Tom's grunts.

"Fucking...come," Tom gritted, reaching between them as he braced himself in a one-armed push-up, somehow managing to maintain the rhythm of his demanding hip-rolls. He kept driving steadily into Bill as he grasped his cock in the other hand and ran it up and down, playing with his foreskin and twisting at the head the exact way Bill liked it, needed it.

That was all it took. Crying out, Bill arched and spurted between them, his whole body seizing up with pleasure as he rubbed himself against Tom. He tightened down on Tom in a brutal grip and Tom froze, buried so deep inside him that Bill felt balls drawn taut against his ass.

"Do it, I need it," Bill murmured, stretching to nibble at Tom's bottom lip.

Tom's head dropped in a mindless nod and his hips pulsed as he moved in shallow circles against Bill, pushing himself deep and deeper. His mouth worked and he crowded Bill against the plushness of their pillows as he seemingly tried to cram himself even further into Bill, who was already achingly full.

Bill mumbled soothing encouragement and stroked over Tom's rock-hard arms, the corded muscle of his triceps and the solid strength of lats. "Fill me up, give it to me," he coaxed, kissing at Tom's mouth sweetly, so sweetly, because while Bill liked it hard, Tom loved those soft kisses to get him off.

Tom's mouth was firm against his, tongue swiping between them as he sealed their mouths together. He pumped a few more times into Bill, crying out, then moved slower, pulling out and pushing back in with long, slow strokes. Bill squeezed down with legs and ass, recognizing that particular move – Tom was coming into him with prolonged spurts. He kissed harder at Bill's mouth and pinched at Bill's nipple.

Gasping, Bill bore down, trying to keep Tom inside of him. He could feel, or imagined, the sudden flood of warmth and it made him especially proud and fond all at once. He rubbed his cheek against Tom's, continuing to kiss him softly as Tom's sloppy strokes eased down.

Tom pressed butterfly kisses over Bill's cheek and rubbed their noses together as he settled his weight atop him again. "This can't be comfortable," he commented, caressing one of Bill's legs where it was hitched up near Tom's shoulder.

"Ehh," Bill said. "I'm kind of used to it." He cast an impish look at Tom through his lashes.

Tom's eyes smoldered at him. If they weren't spent, still connected from their so-recent bout of sex, Bill would be offering himself up all over again on the sheer strength of that look. "So," he said, tonguing at Bill's lip. "You like?"

"Mm-hmm," Bill purred, stretching up and nipping Tom's nose. They both winced as the movement put pressure on sensitive bits. 

Tom disengaged from him, collapsing beside Bill with a low, satisfied noise. He pulled Bill to him in a sweaty cuddle.

"And now I could go for a hot washcloth, a milkshake, and a pair of puppies," Bill said hopefully, widening his eyes over at Tom.

For a moment Bill thought that his twin wasn't going to move, then Tom rolled to the nearest side of the bed with a reluctant sigh. "You are so spoiled," he murmured, stooping over Bill and brushing a kiss to his lips anyhow.

"Mmm," Bill responded, reaching an arm up to hook his brother down. "But you must like me that way; you spoil me." He kissed harder at Tom's mouth, plying the tip of his tongue and ball of his tongue stud enough to make Tom press down against him for more. He drew back, blowing him a raspberry, and pulled the sheet up in a clear dismissal.

Tom flashed him a sweet boyish grin and got up from the bed, pulling his sweatpants over lean hips, hunting around, and pulling on Bill's discarded tank top.

Bill bit down on his lip, admiring the way that Tom filled out the shirt with his strong arms and defined pectorals in a way that Bill himself couldn't quite match. He was far too lazy to pump anything but Tom's cock, pretty much. "Toss that sweater of yours my way," he ordered.

Tom gave him a puzzled glance as he scooped it from the floor. "You're planning on wearing my clothes now?"

"This and nothing else," Bill said with a grin, tucking his knees to his chest. "Probably all day, even." There was something delightfully possessive about draping Tom's sweater all over him, though he wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything of Tom's outside of the house.

Tom's eyes flashed and he balled the sweater up, chucking it right at Bill. "By all means." There was a promise of being bent over a table or perhaps a countertop in the near future given the speculative heat of Tom's gaze. Bill in nothing but an oversized sweater meant easy access.

Bill found he was completely okay with that. He decided there were definite perks to stay-home vacations, after all.


End file.
